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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137326">chaotic like the rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFourDoctors/pseuds/TheFourDoctors'>TheFourDoctors</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Panic! at the Disco, Real Person Fiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Drabble, He’s okay I promise, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Short, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts, idk how to tag this piece, “character study” aka person study</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:41:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFourDoctors/pseuds/TheFourDoctors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this when I was feeling tired and thoughtful so I decided to write a study fic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>chaotic like the rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I mainly posted this so I could share it with someone</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a moment where he just watches the rain drizzle down from the sky. The early morning sky is overcast, and he sits just an inch or two from the edge of the porch.</p><p>The concrete was cold beneath him, but had eventually warmed up after he’d sat there for what felt like hours, but in realty was only twenty eight minutes.</p><p>Another drop of water hits his shoe, and he watches as it slides down the side to join its brethren. It’s interesting for all but seven seconds, and then he’s back to watching the sky.</p><p>His lips part, and lyrics tumble softly from his mouth, from his throat, from his heart. He’s not sure why he’s singing, or why he’s sitting outside at 6:17 am watching the rain fall, but he is anyways, and it’s probably something he should figure out.</p><p>Brendon pauses, and then sticks a hand out into the rain. One drop lands, and then another, and then the little drops of water slip and merge together. He’s not sad, or angry or worried or any of that, really. He’s content in his life at the moment. There’s no real reason for him to be thinking these thoughts.</p><p>More water drops land in the palm of his hand, and slip down his arm.</p><p>He starts humming out more words again. The rain water drizzling down his arm. The slight breeze in the air.</p><p>He thinks thoughts, many thoughts, as many as he would think if he were high. But he’s not high. He’s sober. Sometimes, sober thoughts are worse than high thoughts because you’re in control, and there’s also outside forces, now factors in those thoughts. But, high thoughts were the deepest emotions of a human being thrown into one, all of what they’re feeling, what they’ve BEEN feeling. </p><p>He wasn’t sure which one he preferred.</p><p>Just as the rain wasn’t sure. Just as the rain fell, in a chaotic mess. The sound itself was predictable, a pattern you can learn, like a song. Listening to it was easy enough. The visuals, however, were a different story. The patterns of rainfall are forever unpredictable, uncontrolled by outside forces, just doing whatever the hell it wants. It’s a power higher above them. For some, that thought might leave them uneasy, for others, it might not.</p><p>His hand is wet at this point, having been held up for so long under the rain. It’s chill had crept up his arm, and it felt entirely numb, and it was like his blood had frozen. There’s darkness, creeping up, creeping like the rain down his arm. It’s taking over, invisible, but there, and it’s familiar and welcoming and maybe he should just let it in-</p><p>A beat of silence, of clarity. He yanks his hand away from the rain, cradles it to his chest. His breath catches-</p><p>And then he breathes, and breathes, and breathes once more. The panic edges away. The warmth returns to his hand, and his arm, until the coldness is gone and he’s left with nothing but damp skin.</p><p>The rain has curiously stopped, now naught but a few stray sprinkles. The sun is peaking through the clouds, and morning light comes into fruition.</p><p>‘Not today,’ Brendon thinks, as the rain comes to a full stop and the sun has once again dominated the sky. The light catches on his marriage ring, reflecting like a halo.</p><p>He breathes.</p><p>Not today, not any day, for as long as long as he lives.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah idk. I wrote this based on things I’ve gathered from interviews n streams n stuff</p></blockquote></div></div>
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